


A Labor of Love

by Satine86



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles away from any town, Alistair and his Warden wife face an impossible challenge: she's just gone into labor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Labor of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post on tumblr: http://controlyoureyebrow.tumblr.com/post/107167479827/okay-but-hear-me-out-guys-warden-alistair-and-the
> 
> Complete silly fluff.

"Alistair?" His name was spoke lightly, only the slight lilt to her voice gave him pause. 

He looked up from the tending to the campfire to his lady, his love. She sat on a fallen log, a hand resting on her swollen belly. 

"Yeeeeeessssss?" he drawled. 

"Do you remember when we started this journey, and you voiced some of your concerns?"

He remembered it vividly, he’d had several as he recalled. They could be beset by bandits or overrun by wolves or attacked by wayward darkspawn that never seemed to really leave. 

He’d listed many things to get her to stay in Denerim.. near civilization. Near healers. However, she had been adamant about going with him since there were certain things that required the Hero of Ferelden’s presence.. no matter that she was heavy with child. 

Their child. The thought always filled him with joy, a miracle and a blessing. Usually he couldn’t suppress the grin that would inevitably spread across his face, however, in that moment it seemed to only fill him with dread.

"I… yes?" he finally said, tossing another log onto the fire. "Why?" he narrowed his eyes. 

"I think one of them is becoming a reality." 

Alistair felt his mouth go dry. “Which particular one?”

"The one where the baby comes slightly early." She winced, letting out a low moan as both hands moved to grip her belly. 

He shot to his feet, eyes going wide. “Y-you can’t,” he said. “There’s no healer, no town nearby.”

Indeed there wasn’t, by his estimation they were at least two days from the nearest village. The nearest midwife or healer. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

"You can’t," he repeated, looking around as if he expected Wynne to appear any moment with hot water and blankets.. "I forbid it!"

She looked up at him dryly, brows lowered in annoyance. “Yes, because I _chose_ for the baby to come now.”

"But it’s not supposed to be like this!" It wasn’t. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, a child that for all rights should not exist born out of love. It should have been a celebration, not a moment of terror. 

"I know that, love, but there’s nothing we can do now except try to welcome it into the world." 

"Alright." Alistair let out a breath and scrubbed at his face. He’d faced down an Archdemon. He’d shared a camp with Morrigan. He could help deliver his child. "What do I do?"

She looked up, eyes glazed with pain. “I don’t know?” 

——

Her screams were the worst part, he decided. Mostly because there was nothing he could do to stop them. He did all he could comfort her, make it easier, but in the end he was regulated to holding her hand while she labored late into the night.

"Aren’t you supposed to breathe?" he asked, her hand tightening like a vice around his. 

"I think so?" she panted.

"Then breathe?"

"YOU BREATHE!" she shrieked, the words ending on a wail. "This is your fault, Alistair. You are never touching me again!"

He suddenly had an urge to down a tankard of Oghren’s strongest, and foulest, ale. Maker watch over him.

"I’m sorry?" his voice seemed to go up an octave, despite his best efforts. 

"Alistair?" She looked up at him, eyes wide and uncertain. "I think it’s time… I think the baby is ready."

"Alright?"

"You have to…" she trailed off and nodded pointedly. 

"What?" he squawked. Now it was his turn to squeeze her hand. 

"I can’t very well do it, you fool!" 

Without another word he moved down, kneeling by her feet and cautiously lifting the blankets draped across her legs. He swallowed thickly. 

"Maker," he breathed as color drained from his face, "is there supposed to be that much blood?"

"Alistair!" she yelled.

"I’m sorry.. I just didn’t know. Maker’s breath, that’s the head," he mumbled before he fainted. 

—-

When he came to, it was full daylight and his wife was bent over him. She looked exhausted, eyes drooping, but there was a glow and she looked more beautiful than ever before. 

"Are you alive?" she asked softly.

"W-what happened?" He groaned and sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. There was a definite lump there. 

"You, dear husband, fainted dead away."

"So that wasn’t a dream?" 

His answer was a faint gurgling noise from the bundle in his wife’s arm. She glanced down, smiling wide, then met his gaze again. 

"No, it wasn’t a dream." She shifted the bundle in her arms, holding it out to him. "You have a daughter, Alistair." 

With slightly trembling hands, he took the baby and cradled her close to his chest. He gazed down at her, an indescribable warmth spreading through his chest.

"Oh," he breathed, "she’s beautiful. Just like her mother." 

"You can compliment all you like, but just remember you’re _never_ living down the fainting spell.”

"Maker preserve me," he moaned. She laughed and leaned forward to kiss him.


End file.
